


Don't You Know What The Night Can Do?

by theacesofspades



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 12:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13189644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theacesofspades/pseuds/theacesofspades
Summary: “Let’s be happy, Noah.”“Okay.”





	Don't You Know What The Night Can Do?

**Author's Note:**

> hey sis, please don't read this, I'll never live it down

It was one of those lonely, cruel nights where nothing could stop him from wallowing in his loneliness. He’d spent hours at the miniature Henrietta, flipped listlessly through the pages of his journal, stared longingly out the window at the bright lights over the town. All to no avail. No amount of lovely Henrietta or Glendower could calm his thoughts tonight, could block out the impending future. His chest was tight and growing tighter every second he spent pacing around the dark of Monmouth, but he didn’t know where else to go.

He had already called Blue and they had spoken until she fell asleep. He had felt significantly better for all four minutes, the time it took him to get back to his bed and lay down, left in the dark with his thoughts. So he had taken up walking the length of the building, back and forth on repeat.

He stopped at the intersection of streets that met outside of Nino’s. He wished he was with his friends now. He wished he could sit at Nino’s and talk about stupid things over pizza. He wished he knew for sure he would find Glendower before the year was up, could keep Ronan in school, could find peace with Adam, could kiss Blue. He wished, he wished, he wished. His miniature Henrietta sat passively by, ignoring him and his wishes.

He eyed Nino’s and briefly considered kicking it down, because fuck it, but he knew that would only make him feel worse in the morning, so instead he scooped his keys off the floor, from where they had been kicked off the bed, and took his pacing outside. He swung open the Camaro door, but shut it quietly. He stuck the key in the ignition, but didn’t turn it. He put his hands on the wheel, then lay his head on top of them and told himself not to cry.

The passenger side door clicked open. Noah stood in the open space there, momentarily blocking out the light from the street lamp, before sliding into the seat and closing the door shut behind.

“Gansey.”

He looked more solid than usual, like he did when he had spent the day with Blue, only Blue wasn’t here. The hole in his face was only a faint soot spot on his cheek, blending with the shadows the car cast across his face.

“Noah.”

“You seemed lonely.”

Gansey barked a laugh. He tried to think of something witty to say, something to show Noah he was fine, really, but he couldn’t think of anything fast enough and then the silence stretched on and it became awkward. It was hard to be Richard Campbell Gansey III when his dead best friend had just caught him being sad in his Camaro. God, it was hard being him. Disgustingly so. He looked away from Noah.

Noah reached across the console and took Gansey’s hand. He wove their fingers together.

“You’re allowed to feel lonely, Gansey.”

Gansey laughed unhappily. He stared out the window. It was nearly completely dark outside. The moon was hiding away, and even the low light of a small town like Henrietta blocked out most of the stars in the sky. It was peaceful almost, quiet and still, but tonight it just felt small. Restricting. “Let’s be happy, Noah.”

“Okay.”

Gansey turned his head towards him. Noah was watching him carefully through his eyelashes, eyes half-closed. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Noah was falling asleep. But ghosts didn’t need to sleep and he knew Noah well enough to know when he was relaxed.

Gansey’s chest was still uncomfortably tight. It didn’t seem fair, any of this. Noah being dead. Gansey being given a second chance only to lose that, too. Blue not being able to kiss him. Ronan and Adam refusing to talk to him about anything really important.

His throat hurt, but he refused to cry.

Noah reached out his free hand and rubbed his knuckles across Gansey’s cheek. “You can cry.”

Gansey laughed in surprise. He didn’t quite understand how Noah always seemed to know everything; part of being a ghost, maybe.

Noah spread his fingers, smoothing his palm down Gansey’s cheek to rest his thumb at the corner of his mouth. He studied the curve of his hand against Gansey’s face, the line of his lips on Noah’s thumb. “I want to kiss you.” he said.

In an instant, the night went still and his thoughts paused their racing to take notice. Gansey’s mouth parted around a noise of surprise. “You do?”

Noah nodded.

Gansey was stunned. He would be lying if he tried to pretend he had never thought of his friends romantically - such was the fate of someone with such attractive friends. But he did not expect any of them to be amicable in the face of such thoughts, or to feel the same odd, left of friendly way he did. He didn’t know what to call it. In all his time searching for lost things, he hadn’t had much time to spend worrying about what name to give his feelings.

“It’s just -”

Noah smiled softly, maybe ruefully, Gansey thought. “You’ve never kissed a boy before?” he guessed.

Gansey chuckled. He looked down, blushing. “No, I have, just -”

“Wait!” Noah sat up and laughed, pushing a finger to his lips. “Who have you kissed? I didn’t know - Ronan?”

Gansey smiled widely. So Noah didn't know everything. “Oh, no, it was no one you knew. There was a boy in - in Montana, he’d been struck -”

“- struck by lightning, I remember.” Noah’s face lit up. “I hadn’t realized. . . . Wow.” He laughed, slightly breathless. Noah quirked an eyebrow at him and bit his lip. “So, it wouldn’t completely upend your world if I kissed you right now?”

Gansey’s heart did a funny flutter. He quite liked it.

“No, it wouldn’t.” His voice was quieter than he’d meant, but he couldn’t help it.

Noah cupped his face, but Gansey could barely feel his hands, just the thought of them. He felt his lips, though, the gentle press of them, Noah’s cold nose against his.

Noah leaned back in his seat, face bright. “I liked that.”

Gansey touched his fingers to the fluff of Noah’s hair on his forehead. “I did, too.”

He considered briefly the implications of kissing a ghost, but he was finding it blissfully difficult to hold on to any of the night’s thoughts. He leaned forward, back over the console, and kissed Noah again, again, again.

In moments, they were both leaning half against, half over the console. It was nice, but Gansey was developing a crick in his neck. He didn’t want to stop, though.

Noah pulled away. “No.” he said, but before Gansey’s spirits could falter or he could start second-guessing himself, Noah crawled awkwardly over the divider and into his lap.

Gansey stared at him. “Hello.”

Noah kissed him and grinned. “Hi.”

He gently laid his hands at the junction between Gansey’s neck and shoulders. His fingers were cold, moreso against Gansey’s flushed skin. Gansey leaned his head back, into the seat’s headrest and into Noah’s hands.

“Can I keep kissing you?” Noah’s voice was so soft. Gansey couldn’t tell if he was shy, or just low on energy. He hoped to anything that would listen he was just shy; he didn’t want Noah to disappear right now.

The streetlight shone through the front window, bathing Noah in a soft glow. He looked impossible, and in a way, Gansey supposed he was. He choked out, “Please do.” and Noah acquiesced.

This wasn’t the first time he had made out with someone in the Pig. It was the first time he had made out in the Pig with one of his most inner group. It was different for it, more intimate, electric.

Noah made soft noises into Gansey’s mouth, pushing forward into him. Gansey tilted his head and parted his lips.

It was definitely hotter, making out in the Pig with one of his best friends.

Noah hummed against his lips and Gansey fought to keep his composure. “Hmm, I need. . . .”

“Yeah?” Gansey gasped.

Noah pulled back, looking disgruntled. “A better angle,” he said tersely, feeling along the side of the chair with his free hand. His other hand was tangled up in Gansey’s, who, in lieu of Noah’s lips, was busy brushing small kisses into his palm, along his wrist, down the inside of his arm.

Noah whooped “Found it!”, the only warning Gansey got before the chair suddenly dropped them down nearly horizontal.

Noah winced. “Sorry.” He pet at Gansey’s hair. “This will be more comfortable.”

Gansey had no doubt that it would be. He caressed Noah’s cheeks and carefully pulled them back together. Noah fell easily right back into kissing him.

It was most decidedly a better angle. Noah slid Gansey’s sweater off to celebrate.

He pulled away. “Oh. You’re wearing a shirt.” He stared down his nose at the night shirt like it had personally insulted him. Gansey felt a little betrayed by it, too.

“Did you think I slept naked?”

“I know you don’t, Gansey, we live together.” Gansey felt a curious thrill to hear him say that. It wasn’t anything he didn’t already know, but it was still some sort of wonderful to be kissing Noah, who he lived with, who was his best friend, who he loved.

Noah smiled fondly down at him. “Gansey.” His voice turned up at the end, like he was going to continue, but he only sighed, and kissed Gansey’s cheek, his other cheek, his nose, his forehead, his lips. Gansey understood him, anyway.

Gansey melted easily into him. He had the curious sensation of being cold and hot at the same time, the heat of the car and his sweater-warmed shirt warring with the chill of Noah.

Noah pushed a hand under his shirt, up his side, and Gansey had the mental capacity to spend two seconds on how his life had led him to making out with his dead best friend in a bright orange Camaro in little Henrietta. Life was weird like that.

But then Noah moaned against his mouth and his brain short-circuited a little.

“God, Noah,” he whispered, muffled on Noah’s lips. He ground up against Noah, ears still ringing with the sound of him.

Gansey felt Noah’s long eyelashes brushing his cheek, and he opened his eyes to meet his gaze.

“Noah.” Gansey gasped.

“Gansey.” Noah whispered against his mouth. He smushed their faces together, pressing lips to lips, nose against nose, forehead on forehead, closer closer closer.

Gansey opened his mouth, breathing him in. He held tight to the back of Noah’s sweater and pulled him desperately to his chest. He needed him closer closer closer.

Noah was horribly cold, freezing his face, his sides, his thighs, everywhere he touched turning to ice. He didn’t want to think about why. He was tired of thinking about sad things. He pulled Noah closer, close as he could, close enough to be almost painful.

He pushed his hands through Noah’s hair and pulled his mouth back to his. He swung his hips up, pushing into Noah and giving him the space he needed to drag his thin nightshirt up, over his head. Noah pressed a kiss into the underside of his chin and dropped the shirt somewhere behind their heads in the backseat and set his hands to roaming Gansey’s exposed skin.

His hands froze Gansey’s sides, his belly, his chest. The contrast of Noah’s skin with Gansey’s, the chill of death against the heat of the car, of his body, of them, together, made him feel weak. His eyelashes beat against his cheek. He arched his head back.

His breathing was inconstant under Noah’s wandering hands, the kisses he pressed everywhere. He hissed out a sharp breath when Noah’s hands fell too low, made low sounds when Noah opened his mouth against his throat. His kisses were pressing and insistent sometimes, and just a whispered breath others, but they all left him shivering down to his fingertips.

He held Noah’s shoulders tightly, using the pressure to still his hands and to ride out Noah’s detailed reconnaissance of his body. This was far more than he had expected when Noah had joined him in the car. A little more than he was used to, even with his fair share of experience. But not more than he wanted.

His legs shook under Noah, but he rode the rhythm of his hips with ease. He dug his fingers into the fabric at Noah’s shoulders; the soft sweater helped ground him. He let his head tip back, leaving Noah to his explorations and thoroughly enjoying himself.

All thoughts save the most immediate ones fled from his head. He forgot why he had even come out to the Camaro. He was sufficiently and delightedly distracted.

He wasn’t sure who needed this - the contact, the familiarity, the companionship - more, him or Noah. But he was pressingly aware that they were both deeply enjoying themselves, and also that even though Noah was dead, he could react to physical intimacy. It was a night of discoveries.

His hand found Noah’s hip. He stroked his thumb idly on the skin there, where his sweater had ridden up.

“How much can you feel?”

“Enough.” Noah gasped. “Not enough.”

“Do we need to stop?”

“No.” Noah grabbed his hands. “No nononononono. Just - I can’t.” He groaned in frustration and let his head fall on Gansey’s chest. “I miss being alive. And feeling.” He mumbled into Gansey’s skin.

Gansey wrapped him tight in his arms.

“I wish you had known me then.”

“I wish I had, too.” Gansey took a deep breath. “I love you as you are now, though.”

Noah looked up, grinning. “I know.” His eyes narrowed in mischievousness and his grin sharpened into some odd likeness of Ronan’s troublesome smirk. He ground down with his hips. “I know.”

Gansey cough-choked, flushing deeply. “God, Noah,” he moaned. “You are. . . .”

“What?” Noah kissed lightly up Gansey’s neck, across his face to his mouth once more. “What am I?” He grinned, delighted with himself.

“Trouble.” Gansey squeezed at his sides, enchanted by his giggles.

Noah unbuttoned his pants and Gansey couldn’t quite help the sound he made.

**Author's Note:**

> Yoooo, heeeey, this here is the closest I'll likely ever get to publishing anything explicit. I meant for bluesey to be the next thing I published but it is what it is, and it is very gay. Bi Gansey is best Gansey and the Gansey that is in love with every single one of his friends is the only Gansey, really. Enjoy! ;)
> 
> "Don't You Know What The Night Can Do?" - Steve Winwood


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